to you, two thousand years in the future
by pond-tastic
Summary: In the universe's hands they break and they can't be bothered to be put back (or the world is cruel and jean's dreams are full of stars and armin's holds the sea in his eyes)


**_Notes_**:

Wrote this back in November-ish for a school project - hence less swearing. It's also majorly non-beta'd so excuse the errors and typos (if there are any), and guess who's too lazy to get off her ass and edit some more (hint - it's me), so sorry for weird tense shifts and shit like that

I'd like to thank caro (classically-strange) and hibana for all their support in helping me muster up the courage to post this fic as well as giving me very valuable feedback grammar and emotion wise.

caro - for your words of wisdom and yelling at me during class and for being the most awesome person to ever awesome with my stupid rough draft(s). thanks for participating in nano w/ me and dealing with my tears when i switched fandoms, began (and ultimately abandoned) fics with your encouragement, and your unwavering friendship with me. thank you so much for existing.

hibana - sorry for making you almost cry on the train... and thanks so so so so so so _so so_ much for the writing analysis on my thirtieth version of the story and giving me so much info on how you truly felt about everything and the significance that it had. thank you so much for being the beautiful, wonderful person that you are, with your amazing drawings and your kind words.

saichick-Anna-Erishkigal - thank you so much for the time and patience you had with me that long time ago, giving me the feedback that budded into my current writing/prose style - i owe you _so _much for your diligence. thank you for introducing me to nanowrimo which helped me develop greatly as an author. you may not even be reading this right now, but i gratitude must be expressed in a way.

Also thank you readers for your time and your patience to read through this trainwreck. I salute you.

Hanji's non-binary (according to Isayama), but in this fic I interpret Hanji as female, so I used female pronouns.

Title is void of capitals for emphasis. Other writing is void of grammatical correctness, again, for emphasis.

* * *

**_to you, two thousand years in the future (and maybe the past will be free)_**

* * *

When Eren is naught but a child, his mother is bitten in half by the Smiling Titan.

Our story begins there.

The moment where Eren pledges to fight in a seemingly hopeless cause. Extinguish and erase all Titans from the face of the Earth.

It's not easy.

He loses his mother.

(Eren also loses himself)

(Or maybe he discovers)

* * *

They lose Marco.

As Jean stands by the pyre, flames hot against his face (almost too hot), he feels something break inside of him, a place that Marco used to fill, slices itself off and disappears. Jean doesn't know that he's crying until he's dropped to his knees, head cradled in his hands, and the air around him is stifling, too warm and too cold and too calm all at once.

There's no place to bury a body - not within the Walls anyway (not unless you lived in Sina) - and Jean shatters in the silence of the night, breeze blowing hot against his body, fingers reaching out for a hand that no longer is there.

He wonders why nobody is moving, and he suddenly realizes that the flaming numbness is seeping only at his chest.

It's a startling realization that it's his heart breaking.

In his dreams he gets more time with Marco before he dies.

Jean gets to caress his skin, he gets to soothe away his worries, he gets to card through his dark, dark hair, and he gets to talk, he gets to think, and Jean gets to remember and map out every single detail of Marco's beautiful self.

Jean gets to memorize the feel of his slightly cool palm against his jaw, the way that Marco's smile opened up something within him like he was the key to something that his soul was missing.

He already missed the way that sunlight brightened in degrees when Marco laughed at something stupid in the training yard, even rock hard Keith Shadis turning a blind eye at him, the edges of his stern lips curled up in what might have been a smile (he's too battle hardened for that though).

Smart Marco, beautiful Marco, wonderful Marco, gorgeous Marco, amazing Marco, reduced to nothing but ashes, burned as whole as they could get him, his body already eaten away at, the pallidity of death marring his gentle features and pulling at his limbs.

Nobody knows how he died, fighting some nameless Titan, or probably ferrying people to safety.

(Trust Jean. He's already asked too many for it to be healthy)

Jean doesn't get to hold Marco as he dies, hell, he doesn't even get to die with him (like they always said they would), and he doesn't even get to touch him when he's still breathing, to hear the last words that come he would ever utter in the existence of his life.

That night, after the battle of Trost, Jean can't sleep, and he's searching for somebody next to him that doesn't even exist anymore, hidden under the cold covers of the dark stars too high for him to reach.

Then all he's doing is sobbing stupidly into his pillow, wishing that Marco would somehow be there, right next to him when he wakes.

Jean's not disappointed when the bed is still empty the next morning.

The sadness has dug a pit inside his stomach, leaving him hollow and aching, and he sews the hole that Marco left shut with some string of hopelessness, knowing that if he moved too quick, too soon, too sudden and too sharp, everything would all come tumbling out of his chest.

He moves stiffly, legs cramping up after constant 3DMG use, but he stubbornly holds himself up higher against the winds that threaten to blow him down.

Marco always said he had bad posture anyway, so he pushes his shoulders back, straightening his neck, pulling himself up to the real height he'd always been, but every step is careful, like if he puts his foot down too hard, the imaginary lock would snap loose of its chain.

He feels like he's wearing a bodice, emotions drawn tight around his ribcage, but he wears it like jewelry, baring it like a weapon, gleaming in the light and glinting deadly.

(But the sharper edge is held against his throat).

* * *

The nights _After_ are still as painful as the first, nightmares behind his eyelids.

He still blames himself for not being there with Marco, even though he was supposed to be (supposed to watch him, supposed to keep him safe), and he lashes out at whoever's around him, the other trainees, and Jean suddenly realizes that they're all so (too) young (they're not fifteen - not inside anyway) but they all know.

They feel as Jean feels, and they all tell him to shut up and go away because at this point he's only a hassle that they don't want to fight.

They don't have the strength to deal with themselves and him at the same time.

Nobody pays Jean any heed except for Armin, who leaves Mikasa by herself to go calm him down, nothing but comforting words, managing to somehow lighten the marks of self-hatred and blame.

Jean can't find it within himself to push Armin away and tell him that he's fine - everything's fine, but he thinks (he knows) that Armin knows better of him.

Armin though, Armin holds him until he falls asleep - propping Jean upright with stories (with words), of these places outside the Walls, of the sea, of salt water, of flowers, and trees, and green grass, the wind coming from all directions at once, fresh air, and the sun setting and the sun rising. Jean thinks that he'll take his friends to the sea once they've won.

If they're still alive, that is.

* * *

When Erwin is talking to the 104th, Jean watches as other people leave around him, and the selfish part of himself wants to leave too, but then he hears Marco inside his head, and his feet stay because Jean made a promise with Marco all those years ago (and despite the fact that Jean's a coward, he might still be a man of his word).

He's seen what Titans can do, how easily they can take away people that he loves (Marco, Marco, Marco, Marco…), and maybe (just maybe) he wants to be that hero who saves everybody's hides for once.

_Ha._

_As if._

He's reminds himself that he's doing this for Marco as he trembles inside his own skin, itching and uncomfortable.

Jean looks around himself, Sasha to his left, crying, but not walking away, and Connie who has his head bowed, fists clenched at his sides, so tight that his knuckles are almost white under the moonlight and flickering torch shades.

Bertolt and Reiner standing side by side, with this almost fierceness in their eyes, jaws tight, eyes in front of them, like they're got their whole life planned out and each step memorized, and Jean has to tell himself that he's not jealous.

Mikasa with her calm expression, doing this only because she needed to protect Eren from his own stupidity, and then there's Armin.

Armin is standing alone, lost and looking around frightfully as people brushed by him, hands covering his mouth and blue eyes wide.

Jean figures that they're kind of the same, in a twisted demented sort of way, and he knows that Armin's also doing this for his friend(s) and he's doing this because the Titans took just about everything Armin's known away from him.

It goes against his better judgement, but Jean moves to stand by him, and Armin gives him a watery smile in return.

* * *

Levi loses Isabel on their first expedition outside the Walls.

He watches her blood splatter over the tree trunk, body sliding down to rest among the grass, and there's no time for him to mourn, and there's no time for her to scream or to shout or to say goodbye.

One second she's there and the next she's not.

Levi's used to it by now, the harsh life of the Sina underworld that was pushed upon him at the age of seven muffled his senses, but there's a feeling of guilt pulsing along his chest, and its almost like he has to fight breathe, and he knows full well what's going to happen. (He's not going to cry because that's not what he does).

Farlan goes back for her body.

Levi doesn't get to say goodbye for the second time in a row.

He kind still punches himself every once in a while for that.

* * *

His nights are filled with the cracking sound of something osseous and the sputtering of blood against his cheekbone.

He cleans.

Erwin says that it's normal to have something to cling onto when everything else is spiralling out of his control, but Levi doesn't have the heart to tell him that it's because clean means safe.

He gets down on his hands and knees and scrubs and scrubs and scrubs, purple-yellow bruises blossoming against his pale skin, skin rubbed raw from vigorous washings, and the pink-red of skin chafed by his belts are no more of a pain to him.

Levi cleans because how could he not?

In a war with no clear outcome with incoherent monsters (don't tell Hanji he said that though, she'd be out for his head), clean is something he can monitor - that he can keep consistent.

Levi is trying to scrub stains out of his pants when he realizes that blood doesn't come out (and mentally curses whoever put white pants as regulation) of the stupid issue uniform, and he leans his head against the wall closest to him (and maybe he gives up a little at that point).

He picks up his washing later.

* * *

When Levi acquires the highest solo kill count of any Scouting Legion member during his first year of expeditions, he quietly accepts his medals and shakes hands and gets through with meeting the King and keeps his tongue reined in.

He's the "good boy" that everybody expects him to be, he's calm, he's quiet, he's deadly, and he keeps the Titans at bay, bringing something along the lines of hope to humanity (but not hope to himself). He's the mysterious hero, dangerous and cunning and people don't know if they want to date him or be him.

Levi fashions out stories with words that spiral endlessly around him, picking and choosing the best parts to tell to the patrons of the party.

Sina swine gathered eagerly around him, wanting to touch, to taste, to see, to hear, to inspect, as if he were some animal in a zoo, and that the Titans were nothing but an illusion to keep their children docile.

They always comment on his strength and his height, how his speed doesn't even begin to rival the others (too fast and too quick), how amazing he is in his dark blue and golden suit, the cravat tied almost chokingly around his neck because the life of the Underground hasn't been nice to him, and because he's Humanity's Strongest he has to look perfect .

Perfect and impeccable to the human eye.

He needs to be something straight out of a fairytale book, flawless and almost otherworldly in nature.

Levi needs to fool them by threading his tales to be something heroic and saddening, nothing like the useless bloodbath that it had been.

When he stumbles on his words talking about the men in his squad, the people take it as a sign of guilt or something stupid like that, but in reality he was mentally gauging how many he should cut out of the casualty number.

Public relations were good.

(Well, that's what Erwin said. Levi didn't really care)

Levi tried to keep the Survey Corps well funded.

They've already got so many nicknames for him, and they're all idiotic in his book, because people don't really care about the man behind the name. They only care about the stories that he has to tell.

He hates it and Erwin knows.

Erwin's is always right there, and if Levi ever needs reassurance, the waver in his voice not evident to anybody else, he finds some way to keep Levi calm, keep him the unblemished figure that he is in society's mind. Keep Levi intact.

* * *

The new trainees join the Scouting Legion.

The brat Eren is now Levi's responsibility.

* * *

The 57th Expedition is a failure. Their worst failure in the longest while.

* * *

When Levi is chasing the Female Type Titan, he soars past his squad, the people that he was so comfortable - so familiar with. The same people that trusted him in whatever he asked them to do.

And a piece of him curls up and kind of cuts loose and flies away, and he knows that he'll never get it back again.

He doesn't cry when he has to let loose their bodies.

(It was that, or they'd be run down)

His patchwork quilt of a family never do get a proper funeral.

* * *

Eren watches Levi, the latter having climbed to the top of the castle roof, head tilted back into the never ending expanse of the sky, legs braced on either side of him, leaning back against the last rays of the light, and Eren thinks that it'll be the last day that sets when his squad was still with him.

All because Eren let himself get captured.

Stupid.

Stupid.

_Stupid_.

* * *

Levi's not the one who got eaten by a Titan - kicking and screaming - or had their family killed in action with no body to weep over.

Levi's the one who really has the wings of freedom taped to his back.

(He's always been the one to run away, been the one to hide.)

* * *

_Humanity's Strongest_

* * *

Levi keeps his gear on even when he's not on active duty (fine, he's been suspended by Erwin because his ankle is broken). It's a habit though, it's also some sort of false lure in safety, because if he can get up, he can get away.

(Get away from what?)

(He doesn't even know)

(Maybe he needs to get away from himself)

* * *

Levi can fly.

Fly with grappling hooks, and suspending wires, and shooting out climbing cables that can scale any tree, any Titan, any Wall (but he still can't scale himself).

He can fly because the Wings of Freedom are on his breast, his shoulder, his back, his heart, because the Scouting Legion is meant to push forward against the Titans, to fight back, and to bring flight to the rest of Humanity. The flight of freedom.

_See_?

It's fucking stupid and it's ironic, but it's damn well inspiring.

* * *

Levi sleeps with a knife under his pillow.

Jean sleeps with guilt in his chest and fingers twitching.

Eren sleeps with anger and pain simmering forth out of his mouth, revenge spilling through his thoughts and his dreams.

Mikasa with uncertainty and fear (but she uses it like a sword) because she must protect the likes of a hot-headed Eren.

Armin sleeps with nightmares and the will to live.

(That one day Armin will be standing by the sea)

Erwin sleeps with all their futures in his hands.

* * *

"Erwin's shadow" they call Levi.

He's built smaller, a foot shorter (Levi's actually really, really short, but he'll knock the lights out of anybody who dares to mention it), but he's by no means less strong, less powerful, less intimidating - and in a way, he has more give than Erwin in the field of political funding.

They're always seen together, the Commander (tall, golden, strong, brave, the prince from every single fairytale) and the Lance Corporal (Heichou -captain-, he's slight, short, fed up, and cold), Levi always not two feet from Erwin, and walking front of the Commander, arms crossed over his chest.

Erwin with his blue eyes and bright smile and gentle voice, and usually with his hands clasped behind his back, or one on Levi's shoulder.

Levi is calm and so is Erwin, but Levi doesn't smile.

(He used to)

(But he doesn't quite remember when that was)

* * *

It's going to be Humanity's last battle.

Everybody can feel it.

Once the Control can get his power under, the ape will go down, the stone skins will crack, it will shatter, and then the Great War (the people have nicknamed) will be over - they will be done with.

They say that Levi is worth a hundred, a thousand men in the battlefield and when he's taking down Titan after Titan and with no signs of stopping, even the ridden war veterans are in shock, their steps never faltering, but their breathing lagging.

* * *

There's a still point in the battle.

Levi lands next to Hanji on a branch, gray eyes flicking back and forth over the horizon, watching, waiting, planning. (Doing what Erwin used to do)

She breaks the silence.

"Heh, looks like we're finally taking over, Heichou."

He raises a blood speckled head to look at her, the corner of his lips peeling into what somebody may call a smile (more like a smirk).

"Yeah. Who would've thought," he murmurs, abandoning his sword handles.

"You know that we're not getting back right?"

"I do, Hanji."

She huffs a little at that, leaning herself against the tree trunk, crossing her arms in front of her chest, shaking her a head, high ponytail bobbing up and down, bangs catching the sides of her glasses.

"What are we going to do now?"

Levi merely glances at her. It's not even a question at this point, it's a statement, a soldier looking for an order, a command, something-anything to hold onto in their last moments.

"Do you have blades?"

"Hm?" She looks up, "Oh yeah!"

His have gotten short enough to be laughable, and he squeezes the locks loose, abandoning his own weapons for replacements.

"You might want to rendezvous with everybody first though."

"Tch. Shitty four eyes."

She grins madly at him, readjusting the frame of her glasses, the glare of the sun glinting against the lenses.

* * *

Levi is surrounded by what's left of the famous Scouting Legion, close to eighty percent of the soldiers who had ridden out dead or eaten. There's no lump in his throat to swallow past.

Eren is resting by Armin and Mikasa's feet, tired and pale, but happy. He took out fifty or so Titans in the past hour.

(That's a record)

Armin has his head bandaged, blonde hair matted with blood, and one of his blue eyes are missing, dark liquid seeping from the bitten off side of his face into the corner of his already split lip. He lost that part of himself in a vain attempt to protect Jean.

(With the grin on his face, it looks like he doesn't regret it one bit)

Jean is propped up by Armin, one of his arms wound around Armin's shoulders, and Jean's head landing limply against his shoulder, his ankle so obviously broken (and set rather hastily amidst the battle).

Mikasa's hair is chopped off unevenly at one end, jacket sleeve ripped away, and a large swath of (quickly turning red) bandages tied just below her knee. She is still standing, and she is still fighting.

Connie and Sasha are close together, sweaty bodies pressed flush, Connie shaken and roughed up, but largely alright, and the same goes for Sasha, but her pupils are dilated, hair whipping against her cheek in the bitter air.

Reiner is in Titan form, and Bertolt is still human. They're standing by Levi and awaiting command.

(Who knew?)

* * *

Levi grinds his teeth together impatiently, bruised and cut fingers outstretched in her direction.

"Blades, Hanji."

"No. Levi, no. You aren't going to do this!"

He looks at her square in the eye.

"I will end them all," is what he says, voice calm and quiet underneath the expanse of the clouds above. "It is not a fucking order, Hanji. It's a request."

Hanji bites her lip, fingers trembling by her sides, tears threatening her eyelashes, but she wordlessly slips her fingers around her own blades and hands them to Levi.

There's no time for goodbyes because then the air is shuddering around them, ground shaking, trees tilting in the vibrations. And there's no time for last words as Levi looks at Eren. Looks at Mikasa. Looks at Armin and Jean and Bertolt and Reiner and Sasha and Connie and Hanji and he nods at them.

He tells them to stay safe, to not look back, and to know that there is no maybe in war.

"Jaeger," Levi says.

Eren looks at Levi.

Levi pauses for a moment, "Keep them safe. Remember what you're here for."

Eren nods wordlessly as Levi turns to face the rest of the group in front of him, drawing his arms up to a solid salute.

"And I guess we'll all meet on the other side then. If there's even one," he says, an eyebrow arching playfully, and it brings everybody back to the days before it was like this. A little more carefree.

It aches in everybody's chest.

They all know that it's an order, an order from their standing Commander (their Captain), Humanity's Strongest.

They knows that its an order from Erwin, from Petra, from Auruo, from Gunther, from Mike, from Erd...from Annie and from Marco and from every person who'd sacrificed for this point in time to occur.

"YES SIR," Eren shouts, not even bothering to hide the break in his voice, snapping to a salute, and the others following his lead.

Levi chuckles, dropping his arms for them to hang limply by his side.

"Tch. Shitty brats," Levi mutters, almost fondly, eyes softening at the expressions on their faces, "Every single one of you."

They all look terribly brave for children of their age.

Seventeen years old, the lot of them (save Hanji), and they're are all the last generation of children fighting for a world they might not even see in person.

Levi bows his head, clicking Hanji's blades into place around his hilts.

"Go. I'll take down that stupid Ape. I trust you to take down the rest."

They nod. They know. They've already said their goodbyes.

* * *

When everybody looks back at Levi (even though he said not to), he's standing with his back straight, chin up, fierceness in his eyes, and he looks so vibrant, larger than life, so alive, and everything that the stories say he is.

And he's smiling.

Full out smiling, teeth visible, and joy written all over his features, and it hits something painful in Hanji's chest. It doesn't look unnatural, not forced, fake, pulled, bitter, and selfishly she wishes that she'd seen this Levi before, and she wishes that she would've gotten time to memorize that expression before today.

(It's okay though)

Then they all take off into the fray of battle again.

* * *

Armin is one of the first people to go down, his line cut, blue eye blazing in the light, a loud yell at his throat before his slices down on the nape of a Titan's neck, bringing down the twelve meter class before he's out, neck snapped, pink lips spread, and hair like a grotesque halo around his head.

* * *

Jean dies of blood loss, cradling Armin in his what's left of his own body, until Jean's breaths leaves him, his eyes turned down at the one in his lap, and the right half of his body mostly gone.

His last moments are spent laughing about the fact that Marco was missing his left side, and finally (just finally) Jean thinks that they'd manage to fit perfectly.

(What a match)

* * *

Mikasa is snatched out of midflight, the Titan's large hand squeezing her body until it snaps inward, collapsing out breathlessly, beautiful black hair fanning out in the wind.

She's not eaten though.

_An Aberrant_, Hanji supposes at the sight.

She falls upon it with fury.

* * *

Connie and Sasha flicker out laughing heartily at one of his stupid jokes, knowing that even with both their legs crushed, bodies limp under the green canopy of light, they'd go out together.

The tree they're resting on lands on top of them, high pitched giggling still echoing in the expanse of the world.

* * *

Bertolt joins Reiner in the center of the Titan wreck, their hands linked almost bruisingly, blood in his teeth but no fear in his eyes.

There is no screaming when they are both done with.

* * *

Hanji is spun through the air like a bird until she hits something solid and painful, but she leaves shouting orders to the last, glasses cracked, voice hoarse, leading what was left of the Scouting Legion in their final battle.

It's what Erwin would've wanted.

It's what Levi would've wanted.

And she doesn't need to be near them to hear it, to know.

* * *

There's barely any of the Titans left when Levi gets to the ape.

The remaining soldiers feel it go down.

It doesn't rise from the dust, but then again, neither does Levi.

* * *

The Titans were surrounding the trees, the forest, grasping and shoving their way into every single crevice that they could, and soldiers are struck down like whisping leaves in the wind, and suddenly its quiet.

There's nothing and there's everything to deal with.

It's so terrifyingly silent.

There are no Titans left standing in the aftermath of the Great War.

There's only Eren.

* * *

_"People who can never throw something away, can never hope to change anything"_

* * *

As he soars over the casualties, over his friend's bodies, some intertwined together, some alone, he can't help but think that even the untouchable luck of the 104th trainee squad was no longer an intact fantasy anymore.

Eren thinks (sees) they all died smiling.

Eren wishes that they were there with him.

* * *

"Keep them safe. Remember what you're here for."

Eren wanted to annihilate all Titans from the face of the Earth.

* * *

_"The people who have the ability to change something in this world, all, without exception, have guts to abandon things important to them if they have to."_

* * *

He buries everybody.

It doesn't take long, being a Shifter and all.

Eren picks flowers and he carves headstones from wood, and he makes sure that every single soldier's graves are beautiful, all facing the sunset, the future, the freedom, and away from the Walls.

(They had spent enough time caged in)

Eren cries as he salutes the freshly dug mounds of dirt.

* * *

He sends a horse back with news.

Eren describes everything and everyone. He tells them that they're all gone, all dead, and they're all buried to the best of what is offered to them.

He wraps the end of the Great War up in a nice little bow and with a letter, a map on how to get places, how to get started on surviving the wilderness.

Everything he could ever think of.

* * *

Eren is the only Titan left, as far as the eye can see.

He digs himself a spot, right next to Armin and Mikasa (and it may seem selfish, but he puts flowers at his headstone too).

Eren plunges the knife into his chest (the only way to kill him, eh) and his shaking arms manage to muffle his body with dirt.

The air settles around a perfect graveyard in the middle of nowhere, and the last veterans of the Great War are all gone.

* * *

Humanity spreads outward.

There are no Titans and there are no tears.

* * *

They find themselves at the sea.

Shimmering and the bluest blue, stretching endlessly around a golden shoreline, sunshine beating down onto wooden cabins with walls of silk drapery.

And it's so beautiful

(At least everybody's there to see it)

* * *

_"Of course, every soldier is prepared to die, but these people aren't just pawns on a chessboard. They all have names, families, and feelings in their hearts too. They are all humans who live and bleed. You have the responsibility to ensure their death will not be in vain. No matter what may come, remember this in your naive heart, and be ready to fulfill that duty."_

* * *

They were children that had seen too much and had lived too long in the time that they were given, and somewhere inside a dam would break and tears would flow at the sight of another.

* * *

_End_

* * *

None of these characters are mine and I don't take credit for creating them, characteristics/traits, their personality, and their backstory. I also don't take credit for names, story arcs, and major plot points mentioned. All credit goes to their respective owners/creators.

_"People who can never throw something away, can never hope to change anything."_ (Armin Arlert)

_"The people who have the ability to change something in this world, all, without exception, have guts to abandon things important to them if they have to."_ (Armin Arlert)

_"Of course, every soldier is prepared to die, but these people aren't just pawns on a chessboard. They all have names, families, and feelings in their hearts too. They are all humans who live and bleed. You have the responsibility to ensure their death will not be in vain. No matter what may come, remember this in your naive heart, and be ready to fulfill that duty."_ (Rico Brzenska)

_"I named the Great War and it's fucking cheesy as hell, but I'm too tired to give any semblance of a fuck right now"_ - Me in November


End file.
